Tiger Riding for Beginners

Traveling Poet Philosopher & Occasional Wiseacre

a weaver
pokes its head from the nest,
looks both ways,
& decides to stay in.
i know the feeling.

clouds rise like smoke 
from turbulent cascades --
ghosts ascending

jagged silver stripes
shine in the flooded jungle
at sunset

the river sprawls,
overrunning its banks:
forest, now bayou

baby monkey
practices solo branch-work
low to the ground

even in tall grass,
the peacock stands out;
its neck metal blue

amorous pigeon
makes a mick jagger dance,
and he scores!

crumbling ruins
sit amid the pasturelands. 
that's progress.

the butterfly jinks.
its pursuer holds the line.
i blink; they're gone.

the chipmunk flattens,
crawling atop battlements
as if to glimpse foes